


The Lucky Charms Challenge: Jack's Flight of Fancy

by tiny_septic_box_sam



Series: The Lucky Charms Challenges [1]
Category: JackSepticEye (YouTube RPF), Markiplier (YouTube RPF), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: AU, Fluff, M/M, multi-chapter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-07
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-08 04:56:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4291500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiny_septic_box_sam/pseuds/tiny_septic_box_sam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Dear Sean "Jack" McLoughin, aka Jacksepticeye. Congratulations! You are our first let’s-player to help us on our charity mission. As a man who cares deeply about the world around him, and an Irishman, we hope that you will consider this an honor."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Box

            Jack McLoughin was reclining on his sofa and scrolling through Twitter on his phone, heavy metal music blaring out of the radio behind him. The weather outside was pleasantly warm, and he’d opened a few of the windows to let in a nice breeze. It was a nice, quiet day where he didn’t have too much to do or too many things to worry about.

            The front door opened and shut. “Babe!” Mark called out from the kitchen. “Mail’s here!”

            Jack smiled. “Did I get anything?” Ever since he and Mark had opened a P.O. box together, they’d received a lot of letters and fan art (sometimes lewd) congratulating them on their relationship.

            “Oh you got something, all right,” Mark answered mischievously. Perplexed, Jack stood up and walked into the kitchen where a pile of letters and small packages were spread over the table.

            Mark was giggling, which was never a good sign. He was holding an impressively large, dark red package. Jack laughed nervously. “What is it…?” he asked.

            “Sorry, I already opened it,” Mark confessed, handing over the box. “But in my defense, I didn’t know who it was for.”

            Jack rolled his eyes and muttered something that sounded like “nosy bastard” while he looked at the front of the box. It gave no clues as to what was inside, but the red color and glossy laminated edges told him it was probably from a corporation rather than a fan.

            “Is this a sponsorship or somethin’?” he asked, sitting down to open it.

            “Something like that,” Mark replied, his devious grin growing wider.

            Jack frowned as he removed the lid. He didn’t remember agreeing to endorse anything recently. Maybe Mark had done so on both of their behalves?

            Inside was another, slightly smaller box. On top there was a note.

            “‘Dear Sean “Jack” McLoughin, aka, Jacksepticeye,’” he read aloud. He glanced at Mark, who nodded for him to keep going while giggling quietly. “‘Congratulations! You are our first let’s-player to help us on our charity mission. As a man who cares deeply about the world around him, and an Irishman, we hope that you will consider this an honor.’ An Irishman?”

            “Keep reading, babe, it’ll make sense,” Mark urged with barely constrained laughter.

            “Okay….‘We have a very exciting day in store for you, because you will be our first participant in the Lucky Charms Challenges. (You may now understand why you were our first choice—)’ oh Jesus Christ!”

            Mark couldn’t take it anymore; he burst into a fit of laughter that bent him over the table. Jack had his head tipped back and smiling. “Racist bastards!” he chortled.

            “Yer darn tootin’, laddy!” Mark crowed in a terrible impersonation of Jack’s accent. “Damn racist bastards tryin’ ter ste-yal yer potta—SHIT!” He broke off laughing as Jack jumped up and shoved him into the counter behind him.

            Jack held up the letter and kept reading, one hand still gripping Mark’s shoulder. “‘(You may now understand why you were our first choice.) The Lucky Charms Challenges are designed to “help” some of the world’s most beloved lets-players conquer their worst fears. The events will be filmed and posted to the Lucky Charms’ YouTube page, as well as the contestant’s. To explain the events without givin’ too much away: it will be your job to complete an endurance challenge. For every minute you endure what we have planned for you, Lucky Charms will donate ten dollars to the charity of your choice. Don’t worry, the challenge will be completely safe.’ Yeah, right.

            “‘Please email us if you’re willing to participate. On July 14th, come to the address printed below, and bring the items we sent in this package. Feel free to bring Mark with you; he may also participate if he wishes to, but we have a challenge designed for him as well at a later date. Have a lucky day!’” Below was the Lucky Charms logo, a signature from the CEO of the company, and the address where Jack was supposed to go.

            He looked at Mark skeptically. “What else is in here?” Mark shrugged.

            Cautiously, Jack set aside the letter and opened the bottom of the box. He felt Mark’s hand on the side of his waist as he peered in to look.

            Inside was a personalized box of Lucky Charms with “Jacksepticeye” written across the top and Jack standing opposite the leprechaun, wearing a Photoshopped green top hat and waving an Irish flag. Mark full-on snorted with laughter and folded in on himself while Jack swatted him in the back of the head.

            Also inside the box was a bowl and spoon with septic eyes on them and—most confusingly—a crash helmet with a septic eye on the side. Jack suddenly grew very suspicious of the challenge they had planned for him.

            “Uh…babe?” he queried. With difficulty, the other man rose from his spot on the floor, hiccupping with laughter. “What the hell is this?”

            Mark stared at the helmet with confusion. “I dunno, dude, but it looks cool as hell!” He took it and slipped it onto his own head. “How do I look?” he asked, flexing his arms.

            Jack laughed. “Like the rejected member of Daft Punk.” He looked back at the letter and furrowed his brow. “It says I have to ‘confront my worst fear’…they’re not gonna put me in danger are they?”

            “I don’t think so,” Mark replied, his voice muffled by the helmet. “It said they promise it’ll be completely safe, and besides, it’s from a company. If you got hurt doing whatever it is, they know I’d sue their asses, not to mention crack the CEO’s skull like an egg.”

            Jack grinned stupidly at Mark’s protective bravado. “Yeah…well, it is for charity. I’ll email them and see what they have to say.”

            “Can I make a video with this helmet on?” Mark asked while Jack left the kitchen.

            “Ha ha, no way, it’s mine!” He waved the letter in Mark’s face. “It says here you’ll get to do your challenge soon. Wait your turn.”

            Mark took the helmet off, his lower lip poking out exaggeratedly. “You’re no fun.”

            Jack pushed his lip in with his thumb and kissed him, pressing deeply into him to catch Mark off guard. It worked; Jack walked out without a word, leaving his boyfriend stunned and leaning heavily on the kitchen counter.

* * *

            Later that day, Jack emailed Lucky Charms back agreeing to the challenge and made a video (in which he wore the helmet) explaining that he was going to be part of some kind of mystery event and that more details were coming. (Mark made a cameo at the end, in which he snuck up behind Jack and snatched the helmet off his head and put it on his own. He then sat down next to him with his arm slung around his shoulders, doing stupid impersonations of Jack until the camera went off.)

            That night, Jack laid in his bed while Mark slept soundly next to him, drumming his fingers on the coverlet anxiously. The letter had said Jack would be confronting his biggest fear, and it was an “endurance challenge”, whatever that meant.

            It better not have meant what Jack thought it meant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My second Septiplier fic! :D
> 
> I'm sorry not much happens in this first chapter; it serves mostly to build the story. I promise there'll be more action and Septiplier-ness in the next few chapters.
> 
> I don't know how long this fic is going to be yet, or if I'm going to include other let's-players in it. It depends on how much time/inspiration I have, and how much you guys seem to enjoy it!


	2. The Briefing

            On July 14th, Mark and Jack walked down the streets of L.A. hand-in-hand, Jack holding the red box full of goodies in the other hand.

            “I’m nervous,” Jack had confessed that morning. “I don’t know what they’re gonna make me do, but it’s stressin’ me out.”

            Mark had nodded and given him his empathetic, reassuring smile that always seemed to make Jack feel ten times better.

            “I understand, babe,” he said innocently. “I’ll be there, won’t I? Nothing’s going to happen to you if I’m there to make sure it’s legit.”

            Jack chuckled. “I can take care of myself, y’know,” he said good-naturedly.

            “Oh, shut up, you need me.” Mark had taken his hand and pocketed his wallet. “How about this? If the challenge ends up being something crazy, I’ll do it with you.”

            “Really? That’d make me feel a whole lot better, thank you.”

            “My pleasure. Now c’mon, or we’ll be late.”

            The address was almost an hour walk from Mark’s (and, more recently, Jack’s) apartment, so they took the Metro Rail to the outer edges of the city. Here, the buildings were less crowded together, and there were slightly fewer cars. Jack began looking around anxiously, not knowing what he was supposed to be looking for.

            The directions Siri gave them took them further and further down the road and slowly away from the jam-packed civilization of downtown L.A. Unlike yesterday, the sun was hot and bright and seemed to be baking the pedestrians into the sidewalk. Jack wiped at his sweaty face and said, “How much further do we have to walk?”

            “We should be almost there,” Mark answered, sounding annoyed himself. “Damn, they could’ve at least provided some kind of transportation.”

            The couple rounded a corner, and suddenly Jack caught sight of a huge crowd of people spilling into the street and hindering traffic. Not long after, someone spotted them, and it was utter chaos. The sudden eruption of screams startled Mark into almost dropping his phone, which would’ve been unfortunate if he had, because the crowd came stampeding towards them like a scene from the Lion King.

            “JESUS!” Jack cried, backpedaling for his life. He tugged on Mark’s hand and prepared to make a break for it, but at that moment a team of burly men in black uniforms ran in from the sides of the crowd and stuck their hands out, pushing the onlookers back with numbers and intimidation alone.

            Heart pounding, Jack looked to his right and saw a man in a suit and tie running towards them. “Hey! It’s you! I’m so glad you two made it!” he cried, out of breath. He stopped in front of the couple and shook both of their hands eagerly. “I’m so sorry about that, we don’t know how so many people got the address of the challenge; we’re working on getting more crowd controllers now.”

            Jack nodded, suddenly remembering that he didn’t edit the address out of the letter he’d showed his fans on camera, and choosing not to say anything.

            “Anyway, it’s great to meet you! If you’ll follow me please—”

            “Wait, what am I supposed to be—?” Jack started.

            “Let’s get to the filming site, then we can start explaining what you’ll be doing,” the man said, clearly in a hurry. He began fast-walking into an alley between two buildings leading away from the crowd of onlookers. Shrugging, Mark followed him, tugging Jack behind him.

            They walked between another building and then out to a big open concrete area where a few dozen cameras were already set up. Sitting in the middle of the concrete was something that made Jack’s stomach plummet.

            “Oh, fuck no,” he said immediately, and he ripped his hand out of Mark’s. “No, nope, no. I can’t. No. No fuckin’ way.”

            Mark turned around. “Shit,” he whispered to himself. “Look, c’mon, let’s just see what it’s about, okay? We haven’t even talked to anybody yet. Don’t check out now.” He didn’t yank him along into the area where the man in the suit was leading them but waited to see what Jack would decide, which he immensely appreciated.

            “Y-yeah, okay….” Jack had already agreed to do it anyway. Sure, he wasn’t bound by any kind of contract and could conceivably pull out now, but how would that look? He allowed Mark to lead the way back to the man in the suit, who was standing next to a blonde man chatting with some of the camera crewmembers.

            “Is everything okay?” the man asked Jack.

            Jack nodded. “Yeah, just…just gathering my nerve,” he replied, pointedly ignoring the huge, jet-black helicopter in the middle of the concrete. “I wish I’d been given more warning.”

            The man nodded, smiling. “Yeah, I would too if I were in your shoes, but I’m not in charge. I’m just a grunt.” He laughed good-naturedly. “Anyway, let me introduce you to our host.” He tapped the blonde man on the shoulder. “Sir, Mr. Fischbach and Mr. McLoughin are here.”

            “Oh, awesome!” The man turned around and grinned at them widely. “Hey guys! I’m glad you made it!”

            Jack was so startled he busted out laughing. “Felix?! The fuck are you doin’ here, man?!” He reached out and shook his hand vigorously, excited to see another friendly face.

             “I got contacted a few months ago,” he explained enthusiastically. “They didn’t have the project really figured out yet, but they knew they wanted to do something crazy to promote the cereal and to raise money for charity. It was my idea for you to be the first contestant.” His cheeky grin wasn’t lost on Jack.

            “Oh God, you racist,” he laughed while Mark and Felix nodded at each other and shook hands. “Was the challenge your idea too?”

            “Nah, but I did tell them you were afraid of heights,” he responded. “Just be grateful I talked them out of having you skydive.”

            Jack felt sick at the mere thought of it. He looked back at the helicopter with unease. “Yeah…I owe you one for that.”

            “Are you doing a challenge today too or something?” Mark asked. “How’s this all work?”

            “No, Jack’s the only one doing anything today,” Felix replied. “I’m actually hosting. They needed somebody famous and super overrated to be their clickbait star, I guess.” They all laughed.

            “Mr. Kjellberg?” another man in a suit asked. “We’re on in ten.”

            “Oh, okay, thank you ten,” Felix replied airily, then cupped his hands around his mouth and called out, “Hey! I need make-up over here!”

            Jack was bewildered. “But I haven’t been told anything yet!” he protested. The man in the suit turned and looked at him.

            “Oh, that’s intentional,” he answered in a flat voice. “The director wants to capture your emotions onscreen.”

            “Who’s the director?!” Jack demanded, his pulse whooshing in his ears. This entire situation felt out of control. The man walked away without answering.

            “Babe—Jack, calm down,” Mark interjected, squeezing his hand. “Everything’s fine, right Felix?”

            “Yeah, it is, promise. There’s no danger.” He looked around stealthily and leaned in a little. “Okay, I’m not supposed to tell you this, but the challenge is to ride around in that helicopter with the doors open for as long as you can stand to. If you make it to an hour, you ‘win’, but even if you give up before then they’ll donate however much money you made.”

            Jack nodded, feeling slightly better. “Will I be belted in?” he asked, gulping.

            “Yeah, I promise. Mark’s going too, since he came.” He glanced at him. “You cool with that?”

            Mark nodded. “Yeah, totally.”

            “Good. Just do me a favor and pretend to be surprised when they tell you all that on camera.”

            “We’re on in eight!”

            “Shit, thank you eight! _Where is makeup_?!” Felix barked. From the distance came two women running with a box between them.

            “Sorry, sir, we had to finish Mr. Carlton’s,” they said breathlessly. One of them stopped in front of Jack and rifled through the box of products with lightning speed. “Hold still, please.” She hastily began scrubbing cold cream across Jack’s face and dusted over it with something powdery that made him cough. “There, that looks pretty good.”

            “Uh, thanks,” Jack said, trying to be polite despite feeling sticky. She nodded wordlessly and packed up her things while the other girl finished with Mark.

            “On in five!”

            “Thank you five!” Felix responded. He turned back and looked at Jack and Mark and nodded. “Yeah, that should be enough.” He reached behind him and pulled a blazer off of the lawn chair where he’d been sitting and pulled it on over his T-shirt. “All right, c’mere, this is your camera.”

            Felix led the two of them to a camera setup a few feet to the right, where the makeup girls were doing some touching up on a thirty-something man with slicked back hair and a toothpaste-commercial smile.

            “Oh, hello! Wonderful to meet you!” he said to Jack in a deep, booming voice rivaled only by Mark’s. “I’m Joe Carlton, you may remember me from the letter.”

            Jack guessed he was the one whose signature at the bottom of the letter had been impossible to read. “Yes, hi, nice to meet you,” he answered, trying to sound excited but his voice shaking anyway. Carlton raised his eyebrows.

            “Are you nervous?” he queried. Jack nodded. “Ah, that’s okay. I can assure you that everything will be perfectly safe. If anyone puts you in any kind of danger, they’ll have to answer to me.”

            “And to me,” Mark chimed in, squeezing Jack’s hand protectively. Jack smiled despite himself, and Carlton looked at Mark thoughtfully.

            “You know, I wasn’t told that you two were a couple until recently,” he said matter-of-factly, and Jack’s stomach dropped.

            “Is that a problem?” Mark asked, his voice quietly intense, and Jack was suddenly afraid he’d snap Carlton’s head back if he said yes. But he laughed.

            “No, not at all. If anything it’s good for ratings—well, except for in Texas, but you can’t really count on Texas ratings to do much of anything these days.” He turned to a man next to him and murmured, “On in three,” which the man then shouted for the entire crew to hear.

            Jack still felt jumpy, but he stood where the man that Felix introduced as the director told him to stand and focused on the main camera. Felix was given a plushy microphone that reminded Jack of a reporter’s and stood next to him with Mark on his other side, still holding his hand protectively.

            Jack looked at his boyfriend and tried to smile. “Well, this’ll certainly get views, won’t it?” he joked. Mark chuckled.

            “You’re right about that. This might surpass the time I drank five million-Scoville unit hot sauce.”

            Jack’s smile widened genuinely. “Oh, dear God, I remember watching that,” he laughed. “At least this won’t be deadly…well, I hope it won’t.”

            “It won’t, babe, I promise,” Mark replied, taking his hand and rubbing it up and down Jack’s back in a way that he’d always found soothing. Felix smirked at the pair of them.

            “On in sixty seconds!” the director called out to the crew. He looked at Jack. “It’s okay to be nervous, just play up the happy for the camera. And don’t forget to smile.”

            Jack nodded. “Yeah, got it.”

            The director looked at Mark and said, “And don’t be afraid to act couple-y for the camera. It sounds bad saying it like that, but—”

            “No, I know what you mean,” Mark answered, nodding.

            The cameraman began counting down from thirty, and the director went silent. Felix shook his shoulders to loosen himself up. Jack wondered if he should do the same to release some tension.

            “Five!…,” the cameraman intoned, “Four!…three!…two!…one!….” He then pointed silently at Felix and focused on his equipment, as did the other twelve cameramen in the area.

            “Hello everybody, and welcome to the Lucky Charms Challenge!” Felix crowed into the microphone, his face lighting up with a truly winning smile. Behind him, the crowd of spectators began whooping and hollering, almost as though the interaction was planned. “My name is Felix Kjellberg, also known as _Pewwww_ diepie, and I have with me here the self-proclaimed ‘most enthusiastic lets-player on YouTube.’ He’s loud, he’s Irish, everybody give it up for Jacksepticeye!”

            The crowd behind Jack cheered raucously again, and Felix leaned his microphone into Jack’s face.

            _Crap_ , Jack thought, _they never told me what to say!_ He supposed that was more of the director’s stupid “catch-the-emotions-as-they’re-happening” directions. He glanced at Felix, who nodded very slightly.

            Clearing his throat, Jack pulled the most genuine smile he could and shouted, “ _Wha-pish_! _Toppa_ the mornin’ to yeh laddies! _My_ name is Jacksepticeye and _welcome_ to the Lucky Charms Challenge!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cut it off here because I didn't want the chapter to be too long. I've got maybe two or three different ideas of how I can end this story, and I think I've picked a favorite!


	3. The Ride

            “So, Jack, today you’ll be facing your biggest fear, which is…?”

            “Heights,” Jack answered, trying to sound enthusiastic about it, unsure if he sounded convincing.

            Felix nodded. “Yes, ladies in gentlemen, Jack is _terrified_ of heights. So today, in the name of charity, today he’ll be taking a little spin in our helicopter. For every second he stays in the air, ten dollars will be donated by Lucky Charms to the charity of his choice!” He looked back at Jack. “How do you feel about those stakes?”

            Jack swallowed, remembering that he was supposed to act like he hadn’t already known that. “Jesus, that sounds terrifyin’,” he said honestly, laughing nervously. “I’ll do my best to stay up there for as long as I can.”

            Felix nodded. “We also have with us Mark Fischbach. If you don’t already know him then, well, you probably haven’t ever been to the let’s-player side of YouTube! Mark, how’re you doing today?”

            Mark leaned into the microphone, smiling a camera-winning smile that Jack envied greatly. “I’m doing just fine, Felix! What an introduction you just gave me.”

            “Yeah, did you like that?” Felix raised his eyebrows playfully. “Are you jealous that I’m the reporter today? Maybe Wilford Warfstache can host the next challenge.”

            Mark laughed. “I think that Wilford Warfstache would enjoy that very much,” he replied in his exaggerated Warfstache-voice. Jack grinned, enamored with Mark’s absurdity.

            “Mark will actually be joining Jack up in the helicopter today. Mark, are you nervous at all?”

            “Me? No, I’m not afraid of a little air time.”

            “Because you’re fuckin’ crazy!” Jack blurted, laughing. “If we were going scuba diving it’d be a completely different story!”

            “Hey, don’t give them any funny ideas!” Mark protested. Felix laughed.

            “Mark, why have you accompanied Jack today?” he asked. Mark smiled encouragingly.

            “I’m here for moral support,” he answered smoothly, his voice sounding to Jack like liquefied gold. “I knew Jack wouldn’t want to do something like this alone.” He wrapped his arm around his boyfriend’s waist and tugged him closer to his side. “It’s the least I could do, since I kind of talked him into doing this.”

            Jack giggled, his cheeks warming. “Yeah, he’s the one always gettin’ me into this crazy shit,” he joked. “He’s a safety hazard to be with, honestly.”

            “Oh, shut up!” Mark chuckled.

            Felix smiled and addressed the camera. “Well, there you have it, folks. Let’s get a word with a Mr. Joe Carlton, our event’s sponsor, before we check back with Mark and Jack in the helicopter. See you soon, you two!” With a friendly wave, Felix walked towards Carlton, who was already poised to be filmed. The cameras followed him like buzzards.

            Jack let out a shaky breath. “Oh, God, here we go,” he mumbled. Mark rubbed his back comfortingly.

            “You’re being very brave,” Mark offered with a smile. “I don’t know if I could say the same if I were in your shoes.”

            Jack chuckled. “I wouldn’t still be here if it wasn’t for you.”

            Mark glanced to his left where the fangirls were all spectating with barely constrained excitement and seemed to be debating something, but finally mumbled “ah, fuck it” and kissed Jack unexpectedly on the mouth. Jack stood there wide-eyed for a few moments before returning the sentiment gratefully, his pulse whooshing in his ears, and he could hear a muffled shriek from the crowd some paces away.

            When Mark pulled away, grinning and pink in the cheeks, Jack noticed vaguely that the cameras had panned back to them. He glanced at Felix, who was smiling and shaking his head. Jack laughed, burying his face in his hands for a moment. If Mark had been trying to take his mind off his fears, he’d done so very successfully.

            A man in a suit and sunglasses walked up behind the two men. “Excuse me, gentlemen,” he said politely, “but if you’ll come with me to get situated in the chopper.”

            Jack nodded, still slightly delirious, and followed after him with his hand in Mark’s.

            The couple walked up to the helicopter, where Mark was handed a nondescript black helmet and Jack slipped on his personalized version. The pilot introduced herself from the front seat. It was hard for Jack to see her face through the tinted visor of the helmet, but she smiled at them brightly and assured them that the ride would be perfectly safe.

            Jack and Mark were helped into two seats in the middle of the chopper near the doors and belted in. Two tall, well-built men climbed in behind them.

            “What are they here for?” Jack asked, his voice very hard to hear through the helmet.

            “They’re additional security,” the pilot answered. “That reminds me, _we need mics for these two_!” Almost instantly, two members of the sound crew rushed to the helicopter, removed their helmets, and fitted them with face mics.

            “Why is no one else wearing helmets?” Mark asked, smiling bemusedly.

            “They’re mostly for decoration, sir,” one of the soundmen answered. “It was the director’s idea.” Jack was starting to wonder about the director’s artistic choices.

            Felix approached the helicopter just as the soundmen were rushing away. He walked backwards effortlessly with a camera pointing in his face. Jack hadn’t known he was such a calm showman, but then again, no one got 37 million subscribers by being awkward in front of a camera.

            “And we’re back with our star contestants, Mark and Jack!” He turned and faced them with a smile. “I see you’ve got your helmets on. How do they feel?”

            “Pretty good!” Mark answered, leaning forward. “Can you hear me?”

            “Loud and clear,” Felix answered. “Jack, how do you feel now that you’re in the hot seat?”

            Jack laughed nervously to quell the churning in his stomach. “Uh, I’m tryin’ not to think about it too much!” he admitted, eliciting a laugh from everyone being filmed. _That’s good_ , he thought. _Maybe if I pretend to be funny, no one will know how fuckin’ scared stiff I am._

“Yeah, I understand,” Felix agreed. “All right, folks, we’re gonna wave off our friends now. Hopefully next time we talk to them they’ll be safely on the ground!”

            _Oh God, this is really happening!_ Jack resisted the urge to rip off the seatbelt and make a mad dash for safety, but it was difficult. He looked at Mark, his one safety net, and was rewarded with a thumbs-up.

            “This is gonna be fun!” Mark said theatrically, playing it up for the camera. He gripped Jack’s hand. “I promise.”

            Jack nodded, trying to convince himself. “Y-yeah, it will be, you’re right.”

            “That’s the spirit,” Felix encouraged, backing away from the helicopter. “See you soon, you two! Have fun up there!”

            The pilot flipped some switches, nodded at the man in the passenger seat (who Jack guessed was the copilot), and suddenly the blades overhead began whirring to life. Jack jumped in his chair at how horrendously _loud_ they were. It sounded like a monster was pounding on the roof ahead, about to cave in the ceiling and swallow them alive.

            The situation was getting too out of control; Jack felt like the world was spinning faster and faster until he’d pass out. He clenched his eyes shut and forced himself to focus on Mark’s hand in his, which was the only thing keeping him sane and anchored to the moment.

            The whirring blades spun faster and faster until the chopper began to lift off the ground. The crowd of spectators cheered wildly, and Jack focused on that too. _They’re all counting on you, they think you can do it, and Mark knows you can do it, so you can. You just have to believe it, too._ Jack opened his eyes and looked out of the open door. The ground was maybe ten feet below already. Despite his intense urge to curl up in a ball in the middle of the floor, Jack forced himself to lean out a little and wave to the crowd. A thousand hands waved back hyperactively.

            Oh, God, that was a mistake. His hand was dangling in the open air, and it only seemed logical to Jack that that one little motion would overbalance him and he’d fall out of the aircraft. He leaned back in quickly, gripping Mark’s hand as tight as he could.

            “Hey, easy, babe, you’re cutting off my circulation,” Mark chuckled, wincing. Jack loosened his grip, muttering an apology.

            The copter continued to rise until the cameras and the crowd below looked like little dolls, and the hulking buildings that made up L.A. shrunk into mere stacks of concrete. Jack tried not to look, but it was hard. Half of him was entranced by the cityscape sprawled beneath him, while the other half wanted to squeeze his eyes shut and scream until he was safely back on the ground.

            Mark was looking out of his side with wonder. “Wow…this is the first time I’ve seen L.A. from a helicopter!”

            The pilot laughed. “Yeah, it’s quite a view!” she agreed. “Oh, by the way, there’s a camera installed in the roof of this craft. Feel free to wave to it and say hi!”

            Jack looked up at a lens poking out of the top of the copter. _Oh, great, I can’t even have my mental breakdown off-screen_ , he thought cynically, but didn’t really mean it. He waved at it obediently. “Can they hear us?”

            “They should be able to. Say hi.”

            “Hello everybody!” Mark sang in his television-voiceover tone, and Jack smiled.

            L.A. continued to shrink until Jack could see the beginning and end of the city in all directions. He bounced his legs nervously in his chair, trying to stave off his creeping nausea.

            A crackle emanated from the cockpit’s radio, and Felix’s garbled voice came through. “Just checking in. Do you copy?”

            The copilot picked up the radio’s receiver. “We do copy, Mr. Kjellberg.”

            “Awesome. We just wanted to know how everybody was feeling!”

            Jack leaned forward. “We’re doing fine, Felix!”

            “Great! It’s a little hard to understand you, though.”

            He took off the helmet and held it in his lap. “Is that better?”

            “Yeah, loads. So what’re you thinking up there?”

            Jack gulped. “I’m not gonna lie, I’m way out of my comfort zone,” he said with a nervous giggle.

            Mark leaned in, his hair much wilder than usual after having been trapped under the helmet. Jack’s heart fluttered in his chest; he looked so much like he did when he first woke up in the morning that it almost distracted from the horrors surrounding them. “I think you’re doing pretty well,” he encouraged. “And Felix, the view up here is _absolutely_ gorgeous.”

            “Yeah, I bet. I’m kinda jealous, to be honest with you.”

            “Wanna trade places?” Jack offered, only half-joking. “I’m more than happy to make the sacrifice.”

            Felix laughed. “Yeah, uh huh. Speaking of which, you’ve been in the air for ten minutes already, which means you’ve raised six thousand dollars already!”

            “Holy shit, really? It’s that easy?” Jack chortled. “Well damn, maybe this isn’t so bad!”

            “Don’t get too comfortable yet, sir,” the copilot said with a mischievous grin. “We haven’t even reached the maximum height yet.”

            Jack gulped. “Okay, I might’ve spoken too soon.”

            “You’re doing great, Jack, don’t give up now. I’ll check back in with you guys soon.” The radio went quiet, and the copilot replaced the receiver.

            Jack gripped Mark’s hand again as the chopper continued to climb. The copilot was painfully correct; when the pilot finally announced that they were as high as they intended to go, it was so much higher than even his worst nightmares.

            “So what happens now?” Mark asked. “Do we just hover?”

            The pilot smirked devilishly. “You wish. Hold onto your helmets, boys.”

            Jack white-knuckled both his helmet and Mark’s hand as she began to descend. He wondered if that was really the worst of it—just going _lower_ , which he was in no way against—but after a few minutes of this the pilot pulled up sharply, shouted “ _Here we go_!”, and suddenly the copter began to loop.

            “ _Fuckin’ hell_!” Jack cried out, unable to help himself. He ripped his hand out of Mark’s and hugged his helmet to his chest, clenching his eyes shut and curling into as much of a tensed-up ball as possible. The helicopter made a complete 360-degree loop while the men in the back whooped and hollered and the pilots laughed.

            Jack didn’t know what they were so happy about. This was his own personal brand of hell. He wondered if he’d died last night and this was Satan’s way of punishing him for cheating on his maths test when he was seven.

            The copter righted itself, and the copilot turned to Jack with a smile. “Was that fun?” he joked.

            Jack glanced at Mark, who was staring at him with concern. He gulped hard. “Remind me to never ask you what you what we should do for ‘fun’ again,” he jested, trying to disguise his horror with humor. It seemed to work; the copilot chuckled and turned his attention back to the controls.

            “That was crazy. You okay, babe?” Mark found his hand again, which was hanging limply at Jack’s side.

            “Y-yeah, I’m…I’ll be fine, I just… _whew_ , I need a minute to process that.” Jack felt a bubble of hysteria in his gut, and he giggled like an insane patient. “I have no fuckin’ clue what’s going on right now, to be honest.”

            “Yeah, it’s pretty crazy,” Mark agreed. “But hey, it’s been twenty minutes. That means twelve thousand dollars have been raised!”

            That was pretty amazing. Jack nodded. “You’re right, that’s—that’s good news.”

            “You’re being very brave about this and I’m proud of you,” Mark said seriously, his smile making Jack’s heart melt.

            “Thanks, you’re the one givin’ me so much bravery,” Jack confessed.

            “Awww, how _cute_ ,” Felix simpered over the radio.

            “Oh, aren’t we?” Mark uttered in a suggestive, gravelly voice that made Jack laugh and gave him goosebumps sat the same time. The pilots chuckled.

            The rest of the ride continued smoothly without complications. Jack was a nervous wreck the whole time (especially the second time they did a flip, but they told him it was going to happen beforehand so that he could steel himself), but it was comforting to have Mark there to give him support and crack stupid jokes and hold his hand when he needed him to.

            “I wonder how much fan art this is going to generate,” Jack blurted at one point, which made Mark laugh. 

            “Well, I did plant one on you live on camera,” he said sheepishly, “so probably plenty.”

            “Yeah, good call there.”

            “How the hell else was I gonna calm you down?!”

            Felix came over the radio. “Hey, Jack, I’ve got great news!” he said eagerly.

            “Yeah, what is it?” Jack asked the receiver that the copilot handed him.

            “You’re five minutes away from hitting an hour!”

            “Really? Oh, thank God, now I can get off this death machine.”

            “Hey now, I’ve been going easy on you!” the pilot protested good-naturedly. Jack laughed.

            “You have, I’m sorry, just a stupid joke.”

            “Jack, hello? Are you there? This is Joe Carlton,” a new voice spoke into the microphone. Jack straightened up, surprised.

            “Oh, hello sir. What can I do for you?”

            “Congratulations on making it an hour, first of all. You’ve raised 36,000 dollars for your charity!”

            “Wow, that’s amazing!”

            “You’re damn right it is. But we’ve got one more proposition for you. How would you like to double your money?”

            Jack was quickly suspicious. “What do I have to do?”

            “Well, the men that joined you in the back of the helicopter are actually trained tandem professionals. If you’d like for us to donate _72,000_ dollars in your name, we’re giving you the option to join them in a dive out of the helicopter!”

            Jack went paper-white. Mark, as if instantly sensing his distress, leaned forward quickly and said sternly, “We were never informed about this, sir.”

            “I know, but I assure you it’ll be perfectly safe. Those two are some of our best—”

            “Then why didn’t you just _tell us_ that this was part of the deal?” he asked through clenched teeth.

            Carlton hesitated, as if surprised at Mark’s anger. “I-I’m sorry, sir, I just thought it would be more fun if it was a surprise,” he said anxiously.

            Jack’s head was swimming. “Can I have a minute to consider?” he asked in a shaking voice.

            “Yes, yes, take all the time you need,” Carlton said quickly. He sounded like he’d willingly give the two of them a month to decide if it meant they wouldn’t badmouth his company.

            The copilot replaced the receiver as Jack leaned back in his seat, having a practical out-of-body experience with fear. He glanced out of the open door despite himself and was dismayed to find that he could barely even see individual buildings at this height. How were they supposed to skydive from _here_ and _survive_?

            “You wouldn’t have to do anything, y’know,” one of the men in the back said, which was the first time Jack had heard either of them speak. “You’d be strapped to one of us, and we’d do all the work. There’d be no danger, I swear.”

            There was a small part of Jack that had to admit the idea of being strapped to the very well-muscled skydiver wasn’t unappealing, but the idea of flinging himself out of a helicopter a million kilometers in the air trumped whatever lust he felt.

            Mark gently took his shoulder and stared into his eyes. “Babe,” he murmured quietly, “you don’t have to do this. No one will fault you for refusing.”

            Jack swallowed. He was right; he’d done more than his share of stunts, and 36,000 dollars to charity was still certainly an achievement. But still, he’d already come this far, and he’d be strapped to a professional, and there was a small part of him that liked the idea of showing such bravery and bravado.

            “Would you….” Jack licked his lips, embarrassed to be asking this, especially in front of strangers.

            “Would I what?” Mark implored gently.

            “Would you…be proud of me if I agreed to anyway?” he asked before he chickened out. Part of the reason he’d gone through any of this was that Mark kept telling him he was so brave and so proud; it boosted his ego and made him feel special, which seemed selfish to Jack, but it was definitely the truth.

            “Well of course I would,” Mark answered immediately, as if it was a stupid question to even be asking.

            Jack nodded, continued nodding for a minute or two, while Mark continued to touch his shoulder comfortingly. No one in the helicopter said a word.

            Finally, Jack tapped the copilot’s shoulder, and he wordlessly passed him the receiver. “Carlton?” he asked.

            “Yes, I’m here.”

            Jack gulped, then looked back at Mark, thinking of his million-dollar smile, his golden voice, his strong hugs and soft kisses and how he always believed Jack could do more than he ever would’ve thought capable of himself.

            _This is for you_ , he thought to himself, hoping to project the thought telepathically to his boyfriend. _This is because I love you. This is because you make me believe in me._

Jack cleared his throat. “I’ve made my decision,” he said, trying to be authoritative. “I’ll do it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this one's a bit of a long one, but I didn't wanna cut it off in the middle. I hope you guys are enjoying this story! (And sorry for the cheesy ending, but I don't wanna get too distracted by the story to leave out the Septiplier fluff.)
> 
> Constructive criticism is appreciated, as always! Just be polite. :)


	4. The Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning: There's a LOT of swearing in this chapter.

            Jack was given a red jumpsuit to zip up into and efficiently strapped to one of the muscular skydivers; the only difficult part about the process was stooping under the low ceiling. At least one of the men had closed the doors so that he and Mark could stand. Jack envied his nonchalance at hanging his head out of the chopper thousands of meters in the air.

            “The trick is to be relaxed and just let me take care of everything,” the man explained as he checked his parachute pack for any flaws. “When we go down, have your arms and legs out spread-eagle. You’ll feel me behind you, so just do what I do.”

            _I can feel you behind me, all right_. Jack was painfully aware of every smooth edge and muscular crease in this guy’s torso and legs. He glanced back at Mark, who was nodding along, visibly nervous at the prospect of skydiving. _Well, at least I’m not alone._

“So my life is basically in your hands, isn’t it?” Jack clarified.

            The man paused before saying matter-of-factly, “I guess it is, yeah.”

            “Okay, so…don’t go fuckin’ it up.”

            He laughed. “I promise I won’t. My name’s John, by the way.”

            Jack smiled a little. “That’s pretty cool. I’m Sean.”

            “Isn’t your name Jack?”

            “Nah, that’s a nickname for Sean, since Sean’s Irish for John.”

            “Wow, really? I never knew that.” The man tightened the harness that bound them together, and Jack lost his balance and tipped into him slightly. “I guess that makes us twins.”

            Jack grinned. “Yeah, it does,” he said, flattered despite himself. He caught Mark’s eye, who was giving him a raised-eyebrow “don’t-fuck-with-me” stare. Jack chuckled and blew him a kiss, feeling a little overconfident now that he was flirting with one sexy man and had another pressing into his back.

            The emotion was completely gone the minute John directed him to the door and reopened it. The wind immediately took Jack’s breath away, and he gulped.

            “Are—are you sure I can’t wear my helmet?” he asked, unable to keep his voice from shuddering violently with fear.

            “Not unless you wanna smack me in the face with it, dude.”

            That would probably result in Jack’s violent death, so he decided to pass. “Okay, just…whenever you’re ready I guess.”

            “John, on my count,” Mark’s skydiver called out. Jack wished they were jumping out of the same sides of the helicopter. He’d do anything to get one more look at Mark’s face before he jumped out of a _fucking helicopter ten thousand meters in the air holy fucking shit_ —

            If John had waited much longer to jump, Jack probably would’ve ripped off the harness with his bare hands and ran off to have a mental breakdown in privacy, but as it was, the other skydiver rapidly counted down from three, and Jack suddenly plummeted forward with no warning.

* * *

            Jack’s scream was ripped straight out of his throat and forgotten high in the air above him. He would’ve completely forgotten the pose he’d been told to do and curled up into a ball of terror if John hadn’t tugged his arms into position and separated his legs with his knees.

            “ _Oh God, oh fuckin’ shit, oh God_!” Jack moaned despairingly. He wanted to close his eyes—the velocity of the fall was making them water like a _bitch_ —but he was frozen with fear, staring at the rapidly approaching ground against his will.

            “It’s fine, it’s okay, everything’s gonna be all right!” John shouted directly into Jack’s ear, but the rushing wind around them made it sound like he was speaking from the other end of a long hallway. “Just hang like this and let me do all the work, okay?!”

            Jack didn’t respond but remained prone, wondering how Mark was faring. Oh, God, what if something went wrong and they both splatted on the ground?! Or—worse yet—what if only _one_ of them did? The thought made Jack want to vomit, and he might have if he’d had a proper breakfast before coming here today.

            He wondered if he was being filmed while doing this. John didn’t appear to have a camera, so any footage would have to be from either the copter or the ground below. At least that meant Jack could scream and cry like a little bitch all he wanted.

            Still, he was _entitled_ to a mental breakdown, and he took advantage of that opportunity full force. He couldn’t help it; Jack screamed again, his voice sounding pitiful and cowardly even to his own ears.

            “Oh God oh God oh God get me outta here get me outta here get me outta here get me _the fuck_ outta here!” he blubbered, squinting at the ground below and wondering why, why, _why_ wasn’t John pulling the motherfucking parachute yet?! “Oh God I don’t wanna die I don’t wanna die oh God oh God oh God oh—”

            “Hey, Sean, stay with me, we’re not gonna die, I swear.” John sounded shockingly calm, and Jack was astounded by this man’s apparent immunity to self-preservation. “Everything’s perfectly normal. We’re gonna land safely, okay?”

            Jack swallowed hard and forced himself to nod. They were still falling as fast as they had when they first jumped out of the helicopter—which, did he mention, was _much fucking faster than God had ever intended for humans to ever travel ever_ —but he was getting marginally used to it. His heart was still beating so fast he was afraid he’d contract arrhythmia, and the fact that L.A. was still doll-sized beneath him was still so monumentally terrifying that his brain was on overload just trying to process it, but he felt his former blind panic resolving and hardening into a manageable fear. Of course, that could just mean he was going into shock and would die before he ever reached Earth again.

            _No, don’t you dare freeze up, you son of a bitch_ , Jack thought to himself suddenly, and he was shocked to find that his inner conscience was calmer and steelier than any other part of his brain. _You’re better than this bullshit. You’re gonna survive this no problem, no sweat, you’re gonna donate a metric fuck ton of money to charity, and you’re gonna land on that ground and you’re gonna see Mark again and you’re gonna throw yourself on him because after all this bullshit you deserve some fucking PDA._

“Yeah, yeah,” Jack muttered to himself, which was impossible for either of them to hear in the deafening wind. “Yeah, yeah, right, yeah.” He imagined himself landing on the concrete on his own two feet, his parachute billowing out heroically behind him, and him unhooking himself in a grand sweep, striding over to Mark, and crushing himself against him like a suave action star who got everything he ever wanted. He knew it would probably go nothing like that and he’d crumple into a ball like the pussy he was, but the thought got him through the next twenty seconds of freefall.

            “Okay, I’m going to pull the parachute now!” John screamed in his ear, and before Jack could respond, he yanked the pull chord. The harness jerked against their bodies and temporarily knocked the breath out of Jack’s chest, but his descent suddenly slowed, and he looked up to see a great white sheet had opened above them, spanning what looked like thirty meters in all directions.

            John sighed contentedly. “See? I told you it’d go fine,” he said, his voice a perfect example of relaxation. Jack nodded.

            “Y-yeah, you were right.” He felt a little better now that he wasn’t careening towards the ground like a falling meteor, but he was still far higher off of it than he would ever have allowed. Now that their descent was slower, it also gave him more opportunity to agonize over just how tiny the landscape below him was, and how much damage it would do if the parachute were to suddenly rip open, or the harness malfunction, or the wind to slam into him from above and bury him into the buildings below….

            _Stop it, Jesus, just think of Mark_ , Jack scolded himself. Mark’s hair would probably be a total mess once they both hit the ground, and his voice would probably be croaky and dry after the cold wind had ripped away all of the moisture in his throat. The idea was enough to bring a small smile to Jack’s face, and while it didn’t totally take his mind off of the completely suicidal activity he’d volunteered to do, it did offer some distraction.

            “Hey, there’s Mark and Victor,” John said, letting go of one of the parachute handles to point at something in the distance. Jack squinted, and sure enough, he could just barely make out another white parachute against the clouds and two men in bright red jumpsuits dangling beneath it.

            “Yeah…good thing he’s all right,” Jack answered, letting out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

            John hesitated for a moment. “Mark’s a good guy,” he said finally. “You two make a good couple.”

            Jack smiled despite himself, his cheeks warming. “Thanks…I know we do. He helps me, y’know?”

            “I can tell. You were practically tearing his hand off in the chopper.”

            Jack snorted. “Yeah, well, I’m kind of a pussy.”

            “That’s bullshit. A pussy wouldn’t have jumped out of a helicopter even though he’s terrified of heights.” John sounded like he was very proud, and Jack couldn’t help feeling a little smug.

            “I guess you’re right, although I haven’t exactly been the bravest out here either,” he confessed. “Thank God there’s no cameras out here with us…and thank God I didn’t throw up.”

            “Yeah, believe me, I appreciate that greatly.”

            Jack laughed, and for a moment he was able to take his mind off of how high above the ground he was. Honestly, when he looked at the sky, it wasn’t quite so bad. The sun was pretty, and though there were a lot of clouds, they were all white and puffy. He might be able to get used to a view like this—in a photograph, that is. No way was he ever getting back into a parachute to see it in person ever again.

            “We’re almost to the ground. How do you feel?” John inquired.

            “Eh, I’m still scared shitless.”

            “I know. You’ve barely moved since we went into freefall.”

            “I’m not surprised.” Jack knew he’d be stiff once he got back on the ground, but better that than go limp and spontaneously die.

            Not long after that, Jack began to be able to make out the details of buildings again, and he realized they were heading straight for the landing pad where the helicopter had been. He had to commend John for his aim from a thousand meters in the air.

            Jack could see that the cameras were tilted at an almost-ninety degree angle to capture his descent, so he tried his best to disguise the blind terror he’d carried with him from the copter light-years above him. He could hear the crowd going wild, and the parachute was indeed ballooning behind him action-hero style, so pieces of his fantasy were still there.

            But when he and John hit the ground and John unclipped them from the parachute and from each other, Jack couldn’t help but sink to his knees. He couldn’t hold up his own weight for one more second. He hit the ground, the cement biting into his palms, and his breathing was shaky and irregular. Maybe he _had_ been in shock, and the fear was catching up to him now. He felt thirsty, wobbly, and sick. He squeezed his eyes shut, but the feeling wasn’t passing.

            “Jack! Jack, are you all right?” Felix asked anxiously, sounding like he was at the other end of a very long tunnel. Distantly, Jack felt someone’s hand on his shoulder, but he couldn’t respond. If he opened his mouth, he’d vomit everywhere.

            “Jack, say something, buddy,” Felix urged. When he didn’t say anything, he called, “All right, cameras down! Cameras down—”

            “No! He’s all right, he’s all right!” a voice cried out from the other side of the landing pad. The crowd cheered wildly again, and Jack looked up through his semi-consciousness to see Mark sprinting across the landing pad. His hair was a total wreck as Jack had guessed, and his glasses were missing. He tried to focus on these minor details so that he didn’t vomit or pass out.

            “Hey, hey, Jack, look at me, listen to me,” Mark insisted, falling to his knees a few steps too early and skidding to a stop in front of his boyfriend in a way that looked painful. He took Jack’s cheeks in both hands and tilted his head back, staring deeply into his eyes, and Jack found himself lost in their unique shade of brown. “Stay with me, Jack. You made it, you did it, everything’s fine. You were so brave, Jack, you did amazing. Stay with me, don’t freak out, you’re back on the ground. Jesus, Jack, you were phenomenal.”

            The landing pad was nearly silent; even the crowd of fans were holding their breath. Jack still felt half-delirious, but his chest didn’t feel nearly as tight, and when he opened his mouth to speak bile didn’t come spewing out.

            “Mark…,” he managed, his voice cracked and parched.

            Mark nodded encouragingly, leaning in so that Jack could feel his breath on his face. “Yes?”

            Jack took another deep breath, trying to get some oxygen into his brain before he went limp. “Can I…can I kiss you?”

            Mark stared at him dumbfounded for half a second, then laughed like a dork. “Yeah, if you want,” he said amusedly.

            He leaned in and kissed him deeply, and it was a kiss that dissolved all of Jack’s fear and anxiety and shock; it was a kiss that brought him back from what felt like being miles and miles underwater. His ears stopped ringing and his head stopped pounding, and all that he could process was Mark’s warm, solid, comforting body pressing against him, his lips softly coaxing sanity out of his comatose brain.

            Mark began to pull back, but Jack wasn’t ready; he straightened up and threw his arms around his waist, tugging him back with a small sound of protest. Mark laughed low in his throat and indulged his boyfriend for a few more moments before leaning back with more purpose.

            “C’mon, babe, we’re on camera,” he murmured in a soft, baritone voice.

            “We…what?” Jack said stupidly as his brain returned to normal and he suddenly registered the frenzied screaming of the crowd behind him and the dozen-and-a-half cameras pointed at the saucy scene unfolding for them. “Oh, yeah… _shit_.”

            Mark laughed, his face the picture of joy. “Oh, thank God you’re okay,” he professed with unrestrained relief. “I was afraid I’d lost you for a few seconds there.”

            Jack’s cheeks reddened sheepishly. “It was that bad?”

            “I hate to break it to you, babe, but you were white as a sheet and looked like you were gonna blow chunks.”

            Jack laughed, scrubbing his face with his hands. “Yeah…I think I went into shock and it caught up to me all of a sudden.”

            “Jack, you gonna be all right?” Felix broke in, still looking concerned. Jack nodded.

            “Yeah, I’m…I’m fine now.” He stood awkwardly, dusting his hands off on the jumpsuit. “Can we…maybe cut that bit out?”

            Felix laughed, looking beyond relieved that Jack wasn’t, in fact, going into cardiac arrest. “ _Hell_ no, what’choo talkin’ bout?!” he teased. “That was cinematic _gold_. Couldn’t’ve directed that little pow-wow better myself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's 2 in the morning, and I have literally hit the bottom of the Septiplier trash bin face-first.
> 
> Constructive criticism appreciated! Just be polite please. :)


	5. Epilogue

            A week later, Jack had his head propped up on a pillow in Mark’s lap, a cup of black coffee sitting on the floor beneath his hand. Both men were scrolling absentmindedly through their phones, as was tradition on a lazy Sunday morning, but Mark’s other hand was slowly running back and forth through Jack’s hair, and it was honestly incredibly distracting.

            “Oh, hey, lookie here!” Mark said suddenly. “The video went up. Pull up Twitter.”

            Jack did and checked his analytics. Sure enough, he’d been tagged in Lucky Charms’ promo for the charity video that had been posted on YouTube fifteen minutes ago.

            “God, the fuckin’ caption,” Jack chortled, then read in an exaggerated accent, “‘Toppa the mornin’ to yeh, laddies! We gotta _fine_ hon’rary leprechaun teh take a mighty leap fer our first charity outreach event!’ Jesus, that’s _so_ racist.”

            “Not to mention the pun. A ‘ _mighty leap_?!’” Mark chimed in, rolling his eyes good-naturedly.

            “I should be gettin’ the file in the email so I can upload it,” Jack muttered to himself. Mark resumed stroking Jack’s hair, and he had to close his eyes and take a deep breath before he could focus on his messages again. He checked to make sure he’d gotten the link, then set his phone down, resolving to upload it later when he was at his laptop and not being doted on by the hottest boyfriend in the world.

            There was a knock at the door. Mark stood up to get it, jumping out of the way as Jack snapped, “DON’T SPILL MY COFFEE!”

            “I’m not, Jesus!” Mark laughed. He opened the door. “Oh, hello.”

            “Package for you, sir,” a woman reported. Jack rolled off the couch, intrigued, and stepped into the hall a few paces behind Mark.

            “These are supposed to go to our P.O. box, I think,” Mark said confusedly.

            “I think the box is full, sir,” she answered, handing him a clipboard. “Sign here, please.”

            Jack groaned, smiling covertly. “It’s probably that damn kiss on the landing pad,” he groaned to Mark with a smile. “And that was just seen by the people who were there. Imagine the response once people see it online.”

            Mark nodded, grinning like a fool as he handed the clipboard back and took the package. “Yeah, we should probably go empty that P.O. box before the post office gets slaughtered with porn art.” He set the box on the kitchen table, grabbed a small knife, and cut through the tape.

            Jack leaned against the doorframe, sipping his coffee and admiring the sight of Mark slicing open duct tape in a slightly-transparent white T-shirt. Mark opened the box and immediately began giggling.

            “What is it?” Jack asked, stepping forward to see. “Are we getting three-dimensional porn now?”

            “No,” Mark replied, a chuckle in his voice, “something arguably worse.”

            With a devilish smile, he reached into the box and pulled out a smaller, glossy red package. Jack’s eyebrows raised immediately, and he looked at Mark with trepidation. The latter shrugged, still grinning like a madman, and set it on the table. He opened the lid slowly, as though afraid it was spring-loaded with a gun.

            “Oh, _shit_ ,” he laughed, sounding both eager and terrified. He held up the box and turned it to face Jack. “Look at this, babe!”

            Jack leaned in to read it, a slow, slightly vengeful smile spreading across his face.

            “‘Dear Mark Fischbach, aka Markiplier. Congratulations! You’re our second lets-player to be selected for our Lucky Charms Challenge!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said I was gonna upload this chapter tomorrow but because it's short and I'm trash I went ahead and did it tonight.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading my fic! I'm debating whether or not to make this a series. I'm sure I probably will, because that ending is too good not to expand on.... Anyway, if you enjoyed my story, feel free to tell me in the comments! I love hearing what you guys have to say. :)
> 
> I'll be back very soon with more content for you guys! But for now, see ya later.


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